


A Game of Blood and Water: Outwit. Outplay. Outlast.

by Whiskeyteacup25



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskeyteacup25/pseuds/Whiskeyteacup25
Summary: Arya and Sansa Stark compete against eighteen strangers in the game of Survivor. Alliances will be built, friendships will be betrayed, and romances will be developed - it's all in the nature of the game.Based on Survivor: Blood vs. Water.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing around with the idea of a Survivor AU for about a year and now I've finally decided to actually write it!  
> Just a head's up:  
> I'm not a Survivor expert. I actually only started watching it a few seasons ago and so if you're a die-hard fan I hope this isn't too cringeworthy. This version of Survivor will be lacking some of the usual twists for simplicity's sake.  
> The players don't know each other outside of their pairs. For example, Joffrey and Cersei are playing together but they don't know Robert Baratheon or Jaime Lannister.  
> I'm playing around with everyone's relative age.

**Sansa:**

Sansa gripped onto the railing, her knuckles were white as they sped towards a beach that was barely visible ahead of them. The speed of the boat and the pitch and lull of the waves were making her slightly nauseous and all around her she was surrounded by tropical blues and lush greens, colours that she was unaccustomed to. She felt as if she were experiencing a sensory overload and was terrified that she was going to faint.

Beside her, her sister Arya looked ahead of them towards the beach. Her short brown hair was pulled into two buns on the top of her head save for a single strand which had snaked it way down her cheek and clung to the side of her mouth. Sansa resisted the urge to fix it for her, not wanting to interrupt the thoughts that must have been flying through her mind. A stranger would have thought Arya focused, serious even, but the slight upturn of her mouth told Sansa that her sister could hardly wait for this adventure to begin.

The boat was filled with the other players and the camera crew, who weaved their way between them as they filmed scenery shots and occasionally turned the cameras onto the contestants as well. Each time they came to her and Arya, Sansa felt awkward and unnatural. Production had said that they would forget about the cameras after a couple days but she didn’t see how that would be possible. To be filmed for nearly every moment over the next thirty days seemed a lot to get used to.

Yesterday, Sansa and the rest of the contestants had filmed their introductory remarks. She sat perched on a rock near the hotel they had been sequestered in for the past few days and answered questions about why she was here and what she hoped to accomplish. She stammered and felt stupid at first but she must have done a good job because the camera guy Sam kindly told her that her introduction had been one of the best so far. Sansa had smiled at him, grateful, that for just a moment he had lifted her out of the never-ending stream of thoughts of inadequacy that had characterised this experience for her so far.

The brief glances that she had gotten of the other contestants over the last few days had left her feeling incapable. They all seemed so tough, so sure of themselves.

The crew had instructed them to not speak to the other contestants. Sansa tried not to stare but she couldn’t help sneaking the occasional glance around in an attempt to somewhat gage their competition.

Just off to her left stood a middle-aged couple, both with olive skin and thick chestnut hair. Sansa watched as the man’s hand gently grazed the woman’s backside and the woman leaned up towards him for a kiss. They were beautiful together and obviously very much in love.

On the other side of Arya stood two men who appeared to be in their mid thirties. Both were tall but where one was blonde and slim the other was dark and built like an bull. They definitely didn’t look like brothers and from the way they stood, Sansa doubted that they were lovers. She guessed that they were likely friends. 

The dark one had braided shoulder-length hair and Sansa could see tattoos snaking up his forearm towards his frankly huge bicep covered by his yellow t-shirt. Sansa had seen the blonde one grinning slyly as he occasionally spoke to his friend but she had not seen the dark one smile at all. He had scars on his face, making him look even more formidable than he already did.

The rest of the contestants were scattered throughout the boat, not visible to Sansa unless she wanted to let go of the railing and turn around – which she absolutely did not want to do. She would not collapse and paint herself as weak before the game even began.

“Look!” Arya shouted, jolting Sansa from her thoughts. Her sister was pointing towards the beach in the distance, now close enough that they could see tiny people moving about. “I bet you Jon Snow is already there getting ready for us.”  

Sansa’s heart jumped into her throat.

Jon Snow was the reason that Sansa began watching the show in the first place.

Year’s ago, she had walked into her parents’ living room to find Arya practically glued to the TV. On the screen a rugged young man with jet black hair and dashing good looks stood on a beach before a group of straggly looking people in their swimsuits. From that moment on, she had become enraptured by the show – and not just because of the dreamy host who never seemed to age, although that certainly didn’t hurt. Sansa loved the strategy of the game, the complex dynamics of the relationships built only to be torn down by backstabbing and betrayal.

Arya, on the other hand, loved the show for its survival aspect. She had always been the rough-and-tumble-tomboy-type growing up, eager to prove that she was just as tough as their three brothers. Sansa knew that for Arya, being on _Survivor_ was the ultimate testament to just how far she could physically and mentally push herself; her sister belonged in this game.

But as much as Sansa loved the show herself, she couldn’t quite believe that she was cut out to be a contestant. Sure, she fancied herself a strategist and she had been pretty good at the puzzles she and Arya had practiced before arriving but she wasn’t a physical threat like her sister. She had watched enough seasons to know that the physically weak players often got picked off right at the beginning.

Not for the first time though, she thanked her lucky stars that her and Arya were going to compete together. This season was unlike any season of _Survivor_ before; the producers had told them it was called _Blood vs. Water_ , the first season ever where the contestants competed with their loved ones.

Maybe, just maybe, she and Arya working together could get relatively far in this game.

**Arya:**

Arya and the others stood on the beach waiting for the game to begin. Sansa was beside her looking even paler than usual, except for the tip of her nose which was already turning pink. The heat of the Summer Isles was likely going to take a toll on her redheaded sister, who already was breathing heavily and had beads of sweat pooling above her lip. Arya hoped she wasn’t about vomit. Or faint. Or vomit and then faint.

Sansa had lectured her last night in their hotel room that they shouldn’t do anything to make them stand out – good or bad – for at least the first couple weeks. _If you come out too strong_ , her sister had warned, _everyone will see you as a threat. On the other hand, if I appear too weak no one will want to work with me_ , Sansa had sighed. _We have to be mediocre to begin with._

Her sister wasn’t weak, she wasn’t even mediocre. She was fucking brilliant. Not that Sansa believed her whenever she told her so. But whatever, she was brilliant whether she wanted to believe it or not.

Every year they watched _Survivor_ together and every year Sansa called the players’ strategies and predicted moves weeks before they actually happened. Arya had learned quickly to stop placing bets with her sister on who would win the game because Sansa always won.

She just needed to calm down for a minute and have a little faith in herself.

Turning away from Sansa, Arya spied Jon Snow under a canopy just at the edge of the beach. He looked at ease, smiling and joking with the crew. She wished he would hurry up and get over here though; she was anxious for the game to begin. On her other side stood a very tall, large man who looked to be in his fifties. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, clearly, he was also anxious to get started.

Beside the large man stood a younger guy who could only be his son, although he was lean instead of large but shared the same dark hair and prominent brow. She noticed though, that he kept inching himself away from his father, as if he were annoyed by the rocking back and forth. Arya thought that that did not bod well for their ability to work together as a team.

Before she could think on it further though, the large man ceased his rocking and drew Arya’s attention to Jon Snow walking down the beach towards them.

His hair really was beautiful, the dark, wavy locks blowing gently in the breeze as he walked. He was even better looking in person than he was on TV and Arya admitted that maybe Sansa had a point in choosing him as her somewhat obsessive celebrity crush.

Arya felt her sister’s hand entwine with hers and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

The game was about to begin.

 

**Sansa:**

Sansa willed herself to keep calm as she and the rest of her tribe hiked through thick jungle to the spot that would be their camp. They were walking single file along a well-trodden path. No one was really talking and Sansa wondered if everyone could hear how loudly she was breathing.

It had all happened so fast.

One moment she was standing on the beach with Arya, shaking hands with Jon Snow and mentally patting herself on the back for managing not to embarrass herself when she told him her name. The next moment they were being told that the loved ones were to be split apart and that they would not be playing the game together but would, in fact, be competing against each other.

And just like that, all the strategy that she had thought out for the two of them along with the small amount of confidence she had built up for herself had been plucked away.

But before she even had time to panic, they were drawing buffs and Sansa was moving away from her sister to stand with the other members of the Tadhana tribe.

Now that she had had a moment to think though, Sansa supposed they should have seen this coming; competing against loved ones guaranteed drama and that meant for good TV.

It had been Arya’s idea to audition; she had been dreaming about being a player since she was a young girl. Sansa had merely followed along to appease her, never really desiring to be a contestant, she was more than happy to watch the game unfold from the comfort of her living room.

When they had found out that they had made it on the show, Arya had been beyond excited while Sansa had only felt a mix of nausea and dread.

Since then, though, Sansa had worked to build up her confidence in preparation for the show. She knew that this was a once in a life time opportunity and that deep down there was nothing stopping her from doing well in the game. But that had been with the knowledge that Arya would be right there beside her and it had served to comfort Sansa on the occasions when that familiar nausea and dread threatened to overtake her again.

That comfort was gone now and Sansa was faced with playing this game with nine complete strangers by her side instead of her sister. 

She was not one to give up though. She just needed to focus, to stay present. What was done was done and this was her reality now. Arya always said she worried too much about the future and that she should concentrate only on what she could do in that moment.

Right now, all she could do was continue to walk. The jungle around her was becoming less dense and every few steps she could see a flash of turquoise water, signaling that they would likely emerge on the beach shortly. Once there, she would have to be seen as working hard to help set up the camp so as not to be labelled a slacker while also being approachable enough to establish some early friendships.

Suddenly, Sansa’s foot hit something and she was flying forward. Before she could hit the ground though a hand grasped her arm firmly, steadying her on her feet.  

“Woah. Careful there.” The good-looking boy that had been walking behind her said, his hand still on her arm.

He looked to be about her age and if Sansa remembered correctly he had come here with his mother, a stunningly beautiful woman who mirrored her son in her blonde hair and brilliant green eyes. “We wouldn’t want you to have to get med-evacked out of here before we even play for immunity.” He briefly flashed her a smile.

“Thanks,” Sansa laughed nervously and mentally cursed herself for already managing to appear clumsy in front of her tribe. Everyone knew that the smallest misstep could cause you to be the first one voted off.

“I think we’re getting close to camp. I must have gotten too excited and stopped looking where I was going.” She gently extracted herself from his grasp and began walking again.

“No problem.” The boy said easily from behind her. “You’re Sansa, right?” He asked, not waiting for her to reply. “I’m Joffrey in case you forgot, there’s a lot of names to learn.”

“Joffrey, right.” Sansa smiled a little. He seemed nice.

**Arya:**

Their camp was awesome.

The Galang tribe was situated at the edge of the jungle just off a small inlet of relatively calm water. The beach spread out before them was pure and unspoiled and when the tide went out, the volcanic ocean floor revealed crabs and the like. A handsome, if a little weathered, man named Jaime said that they could collect them to eat once they had a fire going and could boil some water.

Back home, Sansa had spent many hours practicing fire building in preparation for the show. Thinking it better to divide and conquer, Arya had studied shelter making. Which was what she was now occupied doing, the sweat from her brow running down her nose as she used the tribe’s hatchet to make notches in the bamboo logs that would serve as the frame of their shelter.

Almost every season there was someone voted out for not pulling their weight at camp and Arya and Sansa had been determined not to let it be them. Having a skill could mean the difference between staying and leaving in these first few days of the game before the alliances were formed and the targets were made.

A short guy named Ramsay was in danger of becoming that person right now, in Arya’s opinion. He was wading barefoot in the shallows of the water, pacing back and forth, as the rest of the tribe worked at setting up camp. Something about him gave Arya the creeps, likely the way he never seemed to blink, making eye contact with him seem like something out of a nightmare. It was probably why no one had bothered asking him to help.

A young blonde woman with the most interesting violet eyes sat on the beach trying to start a friction fire with some wood and coconut fibres. Smoke was beginning to emerge, which Arya took to be a good sign, as the woman worked tirelessly to rub one piece of wood against another.

Arya had been careful not to disturb her the few times she had passed by while hauling materials for their shelter. The woman was muttering softly to herself and Arya swore she was speaking another language, although she couldn’t be sure which one. She thought she heard her say something like “Dracarys”. Whatever that meant.

“Looks like you’re handling those well,” Gendry, the son of the large man, nodded towards the bamboo Arya was working on as he placed three more in front of her. He had been working with some of the other men to take down trees and was sweating profusely.

“Thanks.” She put down the hatchet and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “It’s not too hard. You just have to make sure you don’t make the grooves too big or else the polls will slide out.”

“Makes sense.” Gendry plopped down beside her and took a swig from his canteen, offering it to Arya after he was finished.

“Thanks.” Arya said again. She took the canteen and tipped a small amount into her mouth, her own canteen was resting against a tree in the shade and she didn’t want to take all his water.

“So,” Gendry leaned back a little and appraised her, “once the shelter is built, who would you least rather sleep next to? That girl talking to herself,” he looked over in the blonde fire-woman’s direction, “or Ramsay?”

Arya laughed and looked behind her, making sure that there wasn’t a cameraman within earshot. “There’s no way in hell that I’m sleeping next to Ramsay. He reminds me of snake from _The Jungle Book_ , like he’s trying to draw me in with his eyes.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Gendry laughed. “He might suffocate you in your sleep.”

“You might be right. And as much as that would make for good TV, I think I’d rather take my chances with the fire woman. I think her name is Dany.” Arya shrugged and dusted the sand from the tops of her feet.

Gendry heaved himself up and wiped his brow on his shoulder. “I think that’s a good plan, Arry.” He began walking back towards the trees but turned to look over his shoulder at her. “Or you could sleep next to me.”

For a moment, Arya was slightly stunned as she watched him continue to walk away. The kid was smooth. “It’s Arya!” she finally shouted.

He was a bit of charmer and she couldn’t quite tell but she thought he might be flirting with her a little. He could be dangerous for her game. But he was also strong and hardworking. And he appeared to like her. Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad to align with?

Arya wished that Sansa were here, she would know what to do.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it so far! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Here's the breakdown of the tribes. Each player's number corresponds with the partner they came with on the other tribe.  
> Galang  
> 1\. Arya Stark, 23  
> 2\. Gendry Waters, 27  
> 3\. Bronn Blackwater, 37  
> 4\. Cersei Baratheon, 47  
> 5\. Ramsay Bolton, 29  
> 6\. Jaime Lannister, 45  
> 7\. Mya Stone, 29  
> 8\. Margaery Tyrell, 28  
> 9\. Dany Targareon, 31  
> 10\. Oberyn Martell, 42  
> Tadhana  
> 1\. Sansa Stark, 26  
> 2\. Robert Baratheon, 52  
> 3\. Sandor Clegane, 34  
> 4\. Joffrey Baratheon, 26  
> 5\. Roose Bolton, 57  
> 6\. Brienne Tarth, 32  
> 7\. Myranda Royce, 31  
> 8\. Loras Tyrell, 30  
> 9\. Yara Greyjoy, 30  
> 10\. Ellaria Sand, 43


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the lovely people who commented and left kudos on the first chapter! I hope you enjoy the second one.

**Sansa**

Sansa slowly maneuvered herself out of the bamboo shelter, careful not to tread on the sleeping forms of Joffrey and Myranda on either side of her. The ocean lapped peacefully against the beach and in the canopy above her, birds were just beginning to chatter. It was early; her fellow tribe members all still in the shelter in various states of consciousness, some snoring softly, others tossing restlessly.

The sun had risen only moments ago, and the air still had a chill to it. Sansa inhaled deeply, savouring these last few moments of relative comfort before what was sure to be another scorching day.

The bones of her back cracked and popped as she stretched her arms above her head and made her way through camp. Sleep had not come easy to her last night and when it did come, it had been light and unsatisfactory. Laying on bamboo slates wasn’t exactly comfortable and the unfamiliar sounds of the jungle and the nine strangers sleeping next to her had her wishing desperately for a cup of coffee this morning.

Instead, she settled for rinsing her mouth out with water from her canteen. She had work to do.

Yesterday had been a moderate success and she allowed herself a small smile at the thought. She had managed to have conversations with nearly every one her tribe members. Friendly, light conversations with no talk of game play or alliances – exactly what was needed at this stage of the game.

She had even managed to make a few connections that could possibly be of use later on. Myranda, a feisty brunette with a round face and the most charming dimples that Sansa had ever seen had become her fast friend after Sansa had mentioned that her mother was a psychologist. Myranda, it turned out, was working on her doctorate in psychology. She had quickly launched into a detailed discussion of her research – the effects of unemployment on intercourse frequency in long-term relationships – and her goal of becoming a sex therapist. It had been an eye-opening conversation to say the least.

Later, she had caught Brienne, a tall blonde woman with wide shoulders, attempting to put sunscreen on her back. Sansa had offered to help, remarking that with Brienne’s freckles, she would have to be almost as wary of the sun as Sansa would have to be. Brienne, in turn, had helped Sansa apply more sunscreen to her back and shortly after they had vowed to be sunscreen buddies for the rest of the game.

She had even had a few more conversations with Joffrey. He had sought her out a few times, which Sansa took to be a good sign and she thought that perhaps he might be an easy first alliance to make.

All in all, Sansa thought it had been a pretty good first day of game play, except for one glaring failure that she hoped to rectify right now: she hadn’t managed to make fire.

No one on their tribe had. Which meant that they couldn’t boil water, couldn’t cook their rations of rice and couldn’t cook any fish if someone managed to catch one. Without food, their tribe wasn’t likely to fair well in the upcoming immunity challenge.

Sansa had tried, along with a couple others, at various points throughout the day to get one going without success. She had become an expert at fire starting back home in Winterfell but the climate there lacked the humidity of the Summer Isles, making it a much easier task.

The thing was though, they were to play their first immunity challenge tomorrow and Sansa was nervous. She wanted to make herself valuable to the tribe now, in case she couldn’t pull her weight tomorrow. So, with that in mind, she headed down to the beach and squatted next to the rocks they had placed in the sand to serve as fire pit and picked up the spindly piece of wood she had been using yesterday.

It was tedious work so she focused on the sound of the waves hitting the shore as she spun the piece of wood between her two palms. Winterfell was far away from the ocean and Sansa couldn't help but think it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. All it's sounds and smells were such a novelty to her. She truly was in paradise.

It wasn’t long before she heard feet shuffling down the beach towards her. Inwardly, she groaned. As much as she needed to continue to build relationships with her tribe members, she didn’t want anyone breaking her concentration right now. If she could just get this fire started she would feel a lot better.

“Need any help with that?” Sansa turned her head to see Sandor, the hulking man with the scars on his face, sit down beside her. With him he brought one of the cameramen, a young guy named Pyp, who stood a respectful distance away with his camera pointed towards them.

Sandor was one of the few people that Sansa hadn’t really spoken to yesterday. If she were being honest, he intimidated her and she had been reluctant to start a conversation with him.

He seemed friendly enough now though, if a little tired. He leaned back onto his elbows, his shirt rising a little to reveal a bit of his hair-covered stomach and those diagonal lines leading from hip bone to waistband that only really muscular people seemed to have.

“I think I’m okay,” she replied, her voice coming out oddly high as she continued to work.

“Good,” Sandor chuckled, his laugh deep and rasping. “I don’t much like fire.”

Sansa wondered if that had anything to do with his scars but thought it best not to ask. Instead, she changed the subject.

“So, did you manage to get any sleep last night, Sandor? I don’t think I got more than an hour total."

“Aye, a few hours, I think,” Sandor said though he still yawned. “I spent the last few weeks before getting here sleeping outside in my yard. Getting comfortable sleeping out in the open, you know?”

Sansa wished she had thought of that. Her and Arya had spent a gruelling couple of weeks weaning themselves off sugar and gluten in preparation for the _Survivor_ diet which consisted almost exclusively of rice, coconut and fish. But they hadn't thought to prepare themselves for sleeping outside. It was smart and Sansa told Sandor as much.

They spent the next few minutes chatting casually about where they were from and what they did back home as Sansa continued to work at the fire. She learned that Sandor had come to play the game with his friend, Bronn, who he owned a bar with in the Westerlands. He spoke of the satisfaction he got from own his own business, how he liked the late hours and the time that he invested in it because it was something he and Bronn had built for themselves. He told her of his hobby of building furniture out of reclaimed wood from old barns throughout the Westerlands and how he had hand crafted each chair and stool in their bar, none of them matched and people sometimes complained they gave them splinters in their arse.

Yesterday, she had found him unapproachable. He had looked so serious and the blunt way she sometimes heard him speak to others had her avoiding him. But now she was finding it surprisingly easy to talk to him. With his grey eyes and dark hair he had the look of a Northerner, as did her father and Arya. But something about him reminded her of her mother and she thought perhaps it was his practical attitude. He didn't seem like the type to worry or make a fuss over things he couldn't control. He didn't mince words or waste time on flattery. He told it as he saw it and that was something Sansa found very comforting.

He was just beginning to tell her about his dog, Stranger, when Sansa let out a small cry.

“Smoke!” she squealed. “Quick, hand me those coconut fibres.”

Sandor did as she bid and Sansa began to blow on the fibres, a ember quickly forming.

Sandor continued to hand her fibres and small twigs and soon Sansa had a small flame going. Around it she built a teepee with larger pieces of wood, interspersing more fibres and twigs between them, and stood back to admire her work as the flame continued to grow.

“You did it, lass.” It was the first time that Sansa had seen him smile and she couldn’t help but to return it. She had accomplished what she set out to do and it felt good.

"You must be my good luck charm. I tried this yesterday and didn't get anywhere."

Sandor nodded his head towards their camp where the rest of the tribe was just beginning to stir. “They’ll be happy to have some rice for breakfast. So will I.”

He held his hand in the air for a high five. Sansa, a bit giddy, eagerly jumped up to join her palm to his but upon impact bent down and grasped her palm with her other hand, groaning in pain.

“Sansa?” she heard Joffrey call from the camp. “Are you okay?” He quickly jogged down the beach to her side.

“I’m fine.” She glanced at her glistening palm. “It’s just a blister from rubbing that stick for so long.”

“Aye, that’ll smart,” Sandor leaned towards them to inspect her palm.

“Come on,” Joffrey grasped her elbow after casting a brief glance at the fire that had now grown to a very respectable height. “I’ll take you over to the first aid kit and get you cleaned up.”

Sansa let Joffrey lead her towards the trees where the medical box was located but after a few paces she turned back to look at Sandor, “Thanks for your help with the fire, Sandor,” she called before Joffrey gently tugged her along.

**Arya**

It was fucking ridiculous. Arya stood on the platform and groaned. “Come on, Ramsay!” She screamed. “Climb!”

She was dripping wet and was out of breath as she watched her tribe fall further and further behind as they competed in their first immunity challenge. She could hear Jon Snow narrating in the distance, shouting about Tadhana’s epic lead over Galang.

The challenge was simple: seven players from each team were to swim out to several obstacles in the water, including a cargo net. Once all seven made it through the obstacles and onto a wooden platform floating on the water, they were to dive down and untie a boat that was anchored to the ocean floor. Next, they were to paddle the boat to the beach where the remaining three members of their tribe were waiting to complete a puzzle. The first tribe to finish would win immunity and would avoid going to tribal council that week.

Tadhana was already paddling their boat back to the beach while her tribe watched anxiously as Ramsay struggled to climb the cargo net. He had had difficulty with the obstacles right from the beginning but this was just pathetic. Bronn was currently trying to help him over the net, switching back and forth between pushing him from underneath and pulling him from above, but to no avail. Ramsay was hopeless.

“Tadhana is really struggling with their boat,” she heard Jon Snow yell.

Sure enough, Arya saw that the other tribe’s boat had turned sideways, the tribe struggling to correct themselves.

In the distance, she could see Sansa waiting to complete the puzzle portion of the challenge, cupping her hands to her mouth she called out the occasional encouragement to her tribe.

Tadhana had easily outpaced her tribe in the obstacles, they had an abundance of tall players with Sandor, Roose and Robert giving them the reach they needed to pull themselves and others over the obstacles. Not to mention that woman, Brienne, was a recently retired Olympic swimmer. But if Arya's tribe could just get Ramsay in their boat they might still stand a chance to catch them

“Swim, Ramsay!” She heard Gendry call out beside her. He had done well in the challenge so far, matching her stroke through stroke as she made her way through the obstacles. Arya smiled, he was a nice guy, a little on the cocky and competitive side but then again, so was she.

Finally, Bronn had gotten Ramsay over the net and was halfway dragging him through the water towards the platform.

By the time Ramsay was at the platform the other tribe had righted their boat and were making their way towards the shore once more. Arya’s muscles were tense with anticipation, she was itching to get off the platform.

“Go!” Jaime yelled and they jumped into the water, making their way to the boat. Jaime was Brienne’s husband and swimming coach. A former Olympian himself, although a lot further into his retirement than his wife, the tribe decided that he would be the once to dive down and untie the boat.

He did so in what Arya thought must have been record time and quickly they were racing towards the shore, desperately trying to catch up with the Tadhana tribe who were only now pulling their boat ashore.

Everything in Arya’s nature was screaming for the win. She focused her strength and energy into the oar in her hands, as if it were an extension to her arm, and she willed herself to propel the boat forward as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, by the time they reached the shore, Arya saw that Sansa, the blonde boy and buxom brunette girl were still only about halfway done their puzzle. Sansa’s head was bent low over the table, trying to decipher an image from the pieces they had placed while the other two scrambled chaotically around her.

On her tribe, Cersei, Margaery and Oberyn began working on their puzzle. Right away, Arya could tell that they were working well with each other, their movements in sync, as if they were pieces of a well-oiled machine.

“Good job.” Gendry puffed beside her, his hands on his knees as he worked to catch his breath. “You can really row.”

“Thanks.” Arya cast an accusatory look towards Ramsay who was now sitting on the sand at their feet “I thought all was lost for a while there but it looks like we really pulled it together.”

Back at the puzzles Sansa was moving around excitedly, her animated hands explaining something to her other two tribe members. It seemed to Arya that she had figured out what the puzzle was supposed to be.

But clearly Cersei, Margaery and Oberyn had too. They were working quickly to put the pieces together and were almost neck in neck with Tadhana.

Around her, the Galang tribe screamed encouragement at their puzzle solvers but Arya stood in silence, watching as they overtook her sister’s tribe and realization hit. Sansa was about to lose and it seemed wrong to cheer. It would have been different if Sansa wasn’t working on the very task that was about to cost her tribe the challenge but Arya knew that Sansa could be in danger of being blamed for the loss. Her thirst to win was suddenly dry in her throat.

Before she knew it her tribe was cheering and jumping in the air and Jon Snow was declaring the Galang tribe the winner. Immunity in the form of an intricate wooden necklace was placed around Cersei’s delicate neck.

Arya smiled and gave out hugs but her gaze was turned to Sansa. The disappointment was plain on her sister’s face. The blonde boy was saying something to her, patting her on the back and Arya saw as her sister gave him a brief smile. After living with Sansa through their teenage years, a time when both of them had instigated hundreds of petty fights and Arya had learned exactly the type of things to say that would make her sister cry, she knew without doubt that Sansa was doing her best to hold back tears in this moment.

Arya’s heart sank. She wished Sansa would look over in her direction so that she could give her some kind of encouragement but the sound of Ramsay yelling quickly pulled everyone’s attention to him.

“Losers!” He was screaming at the Tadhana tribe. Cameramen swarmed around him. “Have fun at tribal council, bitches!” He called, his eyes were wild and a manic grin was plastered to his face. “Suck it!” He continued to yell. “Suck on that, losers!

Arya’s jaw dropped. What the hell was he doing? His dad was on that tribe. Each and every one of them had a loved one over there that now faced the possibility of being voted out and he was taunting them.

“Dude,” Arya heard Gendry say. “We nearly lost because of you. Be quiet.”

But Ramsay didn’t hear him as he continued to scream insults at the other tribe.

**Sansa**

The waves washed gently against Sansa’s back as she stood in the water looking back at the camp. The immunity challenge kept coming back to her in flashes, each one causing her stomach to sink even lower.

She grimaced, remembering the feeling of panic that had gripped her as Joffrey and Myranda had scrambled around her, moving puzzle piece after puzzle piece, each of them competing for their voice to be heard. She couldn’t concentrate because she was panicking, which in turn, had made her panic even more. And when she finally did figure the puzzle out it was practically too late; the other team had started to overtake them.

Now, her, Joffrey, Myranda, Loras and Yara were down at the water, just a little ways away from camp. Pyp and Gilly were standing in the water too, their cameras resting on their shoulders. The group came under the pretext of cooling off after the challenge but the knowledge that they would soon have to decide who they were voting off tonight hung heavily in the air.

Sansa supposed that the fact that she had been invited to the water was a good sign, a sign that she wasn’t being shunned for her abysmal performance in the challenge. Yet things changed so quickly in _Survivor_ , she still had to tread carefully.

“Has anyone heard any names being thrown out yet?”  Sansa casually asked. She wanted to take the lead in this conversation.

Joffrey looked over his shoulder towards the camp, “I haven’t heard anyone’s name yet. But I think we should get rid of one of them.”

Robert, Roose, Ellaria, Sandor and Brienne were getting the rice ready for dinner. While Sansa didn’t think that there were any firm lines drawn yet, there was a distinct “old” versus “young” vibe developing within the tribe.

“I agree,” Yara said. “This is a good group. We should stick together.”

“What about that Sandor guy?” Joffrey asked, casting another look back at the camp.

Sansa could see Sandor sprawled out casually by the fire talking to Brienne, his giant feet bare in the sand.

“He seems like kind of a dick,” Joffrey went on. “I think he’ll be hard to work with.”

Loras nodded. “When I fell out of that tree yesterday trying to collect coconuts, he just laughed at me.” He looked incredulously around at the others. “Then he barked at me to get out of the way and told me to watch how it was done.”

Sansa had witnessed the incident Loras spoke of. It was true, Sandor had been a little gruff but in his defence, Loras was doing a terrible job of getting the coconuts and he hadn’t fallen very far.

“Sandor’s strong though,” Sansa said. “Having him around would help us out in the challenges.” Sandor by far was the biggest physical threat on their tribe, if not the game. Sansa remembered how he had practically dragged the boat onto the shore himself during the challenge, his biceps flexing under the strain.

“He was around today and we still lost.” Joffrey’s bottom lip jutted out unattractively. “Besides, there’s a lot of other strong people on our tribe. I don’t think we need him.”

“No, Sansa’s right,” Yara said. “We need all the muscle we can get right now. And it _was_ funny when you fell out of that tree, Loras.” She playfully punched Loras on the arm and he laughed good naturedly. Loras could be a little fickle but Sansa liked him.

“I wish we could just vote out that little shit, Ramsay.” Myranda piped up. “Taunting us like that? As if he didn’t almost singlehandedly make Galang lose.”

“He wasn’t very gracious.” Sansa admitted. In fact, the behaviour she had witnessed from Ramsay had stunned her. She wondered what it was like to have him on a tribe and hoped that Arya wasn’t butting heads with him.

“Yeah he was nuts.” Joffrey seemed bored.

“Well,” Sansa ventured, an idea slowly forming in her mind, “we can’t vote Ramsay out but we could do something to cripple his game.”

“What do you mean?” Myranda asked.

Sansa hesitated. She was wary of hatching schemes this early in the game but this idea could offer an easy route to voting someone off. “Okay, well, there’s going to be a merge at some point, right? And when the tribes come together, those of us who still have loved ones standing will be at an advantage. We’ll have someone to play the game with that we can trust, someone we know won’t betray us.”

Yara nodded eagerly, clearly she knew what Sansa was getting at.

“We can’t vote off Ramsay but we _can_ vote off Roose.”

 

Later, Sansa stood in the trees next to the medical box. It was the only secluded place besides the latrine that one could go without the rest of the tribe becoming suspicious. She stood behind Brienne, slathering sunscreen onto her back. The tall woman was slightly pink on the shoulders and Sansa noticed Brienne wince when she brushed the lotion against them.

“You were incredible today. I’ve never seen someone move through the water like that.”

Brienne laughed. “Thanks. I could practically feel Jaime critiquing my form.” A crooked smile appeared on her face, just like it did every time she spoke of her husband. “You did well too,” Brienne added as an afterthought.

“No, I didn’t,” Sansa groaned. “I froze.”

“It happens,” Brienne shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Plus, Joffrey and Myranda were no help either. And we messed up paddling the boat. Besides, we need you to start fires.” The other team had won a flint along with immunity but their tribe had left empty handed.

“That’s true,” Sansa conceded. “I’m just scared people blame me for the loss. Would you tell me if people were tossing my name around?”

Brienne turned and took the sunscreen from Sansa and then moved to get started on her back.

“I would tell you, yes,” she said firmly. “I haven’t head anything about you. Robert was talking about Myranda though.

Robert was the loudest person on their tribe and had quickly placed himself in a leadership role. It was already getting annoying and Sansa thought that if they lost immunity again next week she could probably easily get people on board to vote him out. Myranda and him were already butting heads, she didn't take well to people bossing her around.

“Mm,” Sansa nodded, feigning disinterest. “Myranda could work. _Although_ I was thinking maybe we should get rid of a man.” She turned to face Brienne. “Joffrey told me that Roose suggested an all-male alliance.” It was a lie, designed purely to bring Brienne and Ellaria over to their side. Roose seemed like a cold and calculating man and so the idea that he could already be plotting and scheming was believable. Though Sansa did feel a bit bad about lying and throwing Roose under the bus, this was how _Survivor_ was played.

Brienne frowned. “Robert must be in on it already if he’s suggesting Myranda.”

Sansa smiled slightly, not wanting to lay it on too thick. “I think you might be right. I don’t know, Brienne, do you think this all-male alliance could go anywhere? Maybe we should deal with this now and vote Roose out.

Brienne looked through the trees towards the camp. “I’ll talk to Ellaria.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it so far! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Here's the breakdown of the tribes. Each player's number corresponds with the partner they came with on the other tribe.  
> Galang  
> 1\. Arya Stark, 23  
> 2\. Gendry Waters, 27  
> 3\. Bronn Blackwater, 37  
> 4\. Cersei Baratheon, 47  
> 5\. Ramsay Bolton, 29  
> 6\. Jaime Lannister, 45  
> 7\. Mya Stone, 29  
> 8\. Margaery Tyrell, 28  
> 9\. Dany Targareon, 31  
> 10\. Oberyn Martell, 42  
> Tadhana  
> 1\. Sansa Stark, 26  
> 2\. Robert Baratheon, 52  
> 3\. Sandor Clegane, 34  
> 4\. Joffrey Baratheon, 26  
> 5\. Roose Bolton, 57  
> 6\. Brienne Tarth, 32  
> 7\. Myranda Royce, 31  
> 8\. Loras Tyrell, 30  
> 9\. Yara Greyjoy, 30  
> 10\. Ellaria Sand, 43


	3. Chapter 3

**Sansa:**

"What in the hell are you thinking about?"

It was Joffrey.

Sansa had heard his footsteps approaching her a few moments ago, but had been reluctant to open her eyes and put an end to the fantasy she had immersed herself in.

She opened them now though and found him staring down at her, a bemused smirk on his face. His green eyes, which stood in lovely contrast against his newly tanned skin, were bright with amusement and Sansa wondered how he had so much energy.

Sam, on the other hand, was filming them from a few feet away, his blue cotton t-shirt was soaked with sweat around the collar and he looked thoroughly exhausted.

Sansa knew the feeling.

"Peanut butter," She told Joffrey honestly.

She had come out to the beach alone, about a half an hour ago, and her thoughts had quickly turned to food. Burgers, lemon cakes, Sour Patch Kids, ketchup - she could practically taste them! But it was peanut butter that violently punched its way through her thoughts of anything else.

She imagined it thick and crunchy, spread on toast, pancakes, and apple slices. She wanted it on diced bananas with a drizzle of honey or sandwiched between two Oreos, the way her father used to let her and her siblings eat it when their mother wasn't home. Hell, right now she would even eat it straight out of the jar.

She was ridiculously hungry.

From the moment she woke up this morning, thoughts of food had been rudely invading her brain, making it difficult to even concentrate when others spoke to her. She found herself becoming irritated with the smallest of things and, as the mood around camp had been tense since last night, Sansa thought some "me time" was in desperate order.

She should have known it would be short lived.

Joffrey laughed and plopped down beside her. "From the look on your face I was afraid I was interrupting you thinking about something a little more intimate than peanut butter."

"Honestly," Sansa put her head in hands and sighed, "the way I've been thinking about food today  _is_  akin to sex. I've never been this hungry before."

Joffrey cast her a sideways glance, "Really? It's only been four days, Sansa." He laughed though it was without humour.

"I know," she flushed. She had thought that everyone would be just as hungry as her, but maybe she was the only one feeling it this early in the game. "I think I just need to adjust to the lack of variety out here. I normally eat pretty healthy at home." She really did. Most of the time.

"Don't worry," Joffrey said, his tone was light again, "they're bound to put up fishing gear as a reward soon and then I'll catch lots of fish for you."

Somehow, Sansa didn't think that fish would put an end to her cravings for carbs and sugar, but the offer was generous nevertheless.

"I appreciate that. Do you do a lot of fishing back home?"

"Some, though not so much in recent years," Joffrey admitted. "Grandfather used to take me out on his boat a lot when I was young. Our house overlooks the ocean and we have a private dock."

"That sounds really nice." Joffrey was from one of the warmer regions of Westeros, a place called Casterly Rock. Sansa knew that he lived with his grandfather and his mother Cersei, who he had come on  _Survivor_ with.

Joffrey shrugged. "Anyway, how did you think tribal went last night? I didn't get a chance to speak to you afterwards."

Last night they had voted Roose off with a vote of seven to three. The three other votes went to Myranda which, from the information that Brienne had given her, was exactly how Sansa had expected it to go.

Leading up to the vote, she had been harbouring a small amount of guilt. She was about to effectively end someone's game who really had done nothing wrong, aside from being the father of someone who had a serious lack of tact and social grace. But someone had to go and Roose was as good as anyone. Better than anyone, actually. With his cold, pale eyes and calculating stares, Sansa didn't think that he would have been someone she could make a connection with; much less align with in the game.

“I thought it went really well. No surprises, which was good,” Sansa answered. “And I wasn’t as nervous answering Jon’s questions as I thought I would be.”

The whole experience of tribal was designed to intimidate. In the black of night, all ten of them sat around a fire opposite to Jon Snow as he asked them intense and probing questions about the immunity challenge, life at camp, and their general game-play so far. For the players, it became a dangerous balance between answering Jon’s questions with enough detail and not giving away too much information.

Initially, Sansa had dreaded being put on the spot by Jon, but by the end of the night she had actually looked forward to his questions and had wanted him to ask more of her. He had been so engaging and easy to talk to that Sansa forgot she was being filmed for everyone across Westeros to see.

“I thought it went well too,” Joffrey said, “although, Myranda sure wasn’t happy about having her name written down.”

That was an understatement.

After they got back to camp last night Myranda and Robert had gone head to head. It all started when he went off on Ellaria and Brienne for not following through with voting Myranda off and Myranda, not willing to listen to him throwing her name about so callously, had told him to be quiet or else he would be the next one voted out.

From there, things had only gotten more heated between the two of them. Sansa, for her part, remained mostly quiet throughout the entire ordeal. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself as the entire plan had been her idea, but when it escalated to Myranda calling Robert an arrogant son-of-a-bitch she thought it was time to step in.

With the help of Yara, she had dragged Myranda down to the beach. They laid on the sand and gazed up at the stars for the next hour, listening as Myranda continued to rant about Robert, albeit with less and less fire as time went on.

“That was pretty intense last night,” Sansa agreed. “I heard Myranda apologising to Robert this morning though.”

“I doubt it’ll be enough,” Joffrey scoffed. His mood could change so quickly, Sansa noticed and not for the first time. “It was really stupid of her to go off like that.”

He was right, of course, but Myranda was a fiery person and Robert hadn’t exactly been innocent in what happened. He  _was_  arrogant and part of Sansa wished she had been the one to call him an SOB.

“Maybe,” Sansa conceded, “but no one is perfect. Disagreements happen.”

“She’s a loose cannon,” Joffrey spat. “We’ll have to think about how much longer we want to work with her.”

“She’s a big target though,” Sansa countered. “If she’s around we’re less likely to be targets ourselves.”

“I suppose,” Joffrey sighed. He turned to her and smiled, calm once again, “I’m just glad you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. I think my mother would like working with you as much as I do.”

“Really?” Sansa asked. She was flattered. From the way Joffrey sometimes spoke about his mother she had the impression that Cersei was a difficult person to impress.

“Totally. She’s really going to like you, Sansa.” He nudged her playfully with his shoulder. “So, what do you say? If we’re all still standing at the merge, why don’t we see if you, mother, your sister and I can all work together?”

Sansa hesitated even though she had been expecting this. Joffrey seemed drawn to her, more so than with anyone else on their tribe, but was he someone that Arya would want to work with? Her sister was similar to Myranda in more ways than one and maybe Joffrey wouldn’t even like her.

Having a potential four-some going into the merge was nothing to turn her nose up at though. If all went to plan, they could bring a few more people to their side and easily have the numbers to control the game. And, Sansa reasoned, just because she made a deal with him now didn’t mean she and Arya would have to stick with it for the rest of the game. People broke alliances all the time.

“I’d like that,” Sansa said.

**Arya:**

“Okay, your turn Dany.”

“Hmm, let me think,” the petite woman was seated on her knees concentrating on shaping sand around Gendry’s legs. They were giving him a merman’s tail out of sand while simultaneously playing  _Two Truths and a Lie._

Before coming on the show, it had never occurred to Arya just how much downtime the players had in between immunity challenges. She had no idea that after chopping wood and collecting water there would be endless hours left to spend napping and talking with her fellow tribe members.

Playing drinking games sans alcohol was also an option.

“Don’t move! You’ll ruin it,” Arya scolded Gendry as he attempted to sit up and look at their work. He scowled and laid back down.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” Dany stared out at the water and crossed her arms over her chest. “One, I have two pet lizards at home. Two, my marriage to Yara is my second. And three, I’m a natural blonde.”

“Marriage!” Gendry shouted, barely giving Dany time to finish what she was saying.

Arya gave him a dirty look – she was going to guess that. Dany spoke about Yara in such a way that it seemed they had been together forever and Arya had never heard her mention anything about someone before her wife.

Gendry grinned at her stupidly. He could be so annoying.

“I guess lizards, then.” Arya said. She couldn’t see any dark roots emerging from the top of Dany’s head.

Dany arched one of her thick eyebrows and surveyed them both as if deciding whether they were truly worthy of knowing the truth.

“I have  _three_ pet lizards at home,” she finally said. “Not two.” A broad smile spread across her face.

“Ha!” Arya stuck her tongue out at Gendry. “You lose.”

Gendry ignored her and sat up, his tail cracked down the centre and sand fell away from his sides. “So, you were married before Yara?” he asked. “What happened?”

“He was a wonderful man,” Dany said. “I thought we’d be together forever,” her smile faltered a little, “but then he died.”

Arya hadn’t been expecting that.

“I’m sorry,” Gendry said. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s alright,” Dany shrugged. “I like to remember him. Especially here. He would have loved to come out here and compete with me. He was such a fierce man.”

“My mother died last year,” Gendry said. “Cancer.”

Arya swirled her finger in the sand. This conversation was taking a more serious turn than she would have liked.

“Were you close?” Dany asked softly.

Gendry nodded and glanced down at his toes. “It was just her and me growing up.” He huffed out a small laugh, “Let’s just say I was a bit of a mama’s boy.”

“What about Robert?” curiosity overcame Arya’s awkwardness.

“Honestly, I don’t really know him very well. I only saw him a handful of times when I was young.”

“Then why come on _Survivor_ with him?” Arya asked.

Gendry shrugged. “He asked me to. Ever since my mom died he’s been trying to get to know me. I guess he thought it would be a good way for us to bond.”

Arya frowned. If someone in her family hadn’t been in her life as child there was no way she’d let them in now. Sure, her and Sansa had fought a lot through their adolescence, but her sister had always been there.

Her stomach clenched at the thought of Sansa and she hoped for the thousandth time that day that her sister hadn’t been voted out last night.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Gendry said, evidently guessing at some of what she was thinking. “He always made sure we had enough money when I was growing up. I just think that he wasn’t ready to have a family.”

“You could have worse for a father,” Dany agreed, a knowing look in her eyes.

Before Arya had a chance to respond they heard shouting coming from the camp.

Aside from the three of them, everyone had been lazing about in the shade of their shelter. Now though, Arya saw that they were sitting up and Mya was gesticulating widely.

“I wonder what’s going on over there?” Dany said.

“If I were a betting man,” Gendry squinted, “I’d put my money on it having something to do with Ramsay.”

Everyone on their tribe had treated Ramsay with distance since the immunity challenge. For most people it would be an uncomfortable experience, but apparently not for Ramsay. He continued on as if nothing had happened, joining in on conversations and lingering where he was not wanted.

He had this way about him too. He would worm his way into conversations, playing friendly and enthusiastic, making you think that maybe he wasn’t so bad, but then he’d go for the jugular and tear someone down when they least expected. Arya had witnessed it on several occasions but he had yet to try it on her.

Just this morning, Ramsay had interrupted Jaime recounting of one of his wife’s gold medal swims by commenting that watching her finish first must have been exciting. Unfamiliar too, he had added after Jaime had agreed, since he had never managed to win a gold himself and would have to settle for watching his wife do it.

Mya was a friendly girl, easy going and easy to get along with. Gendry was right, if she was upset Ramsay likely had something do with it.

Sure enough, they saw Ramsay stand up and stalk off into the jungle.

Dany sighed, “We’ve got to get rid of him.”

**Sansa:**

“Ouch! Bloody fucking hell.”

Sansa heard a masculine voice shout through the trees as she made her way back from the latrine.

“Sandor?” she asked as his broad, shirtless back came into view. He was hunched over something, one foot propped up on a rock.

“What?” he growled, not bothering to look at her.

Sansa took a step back; he obviously didn’t want to be disturbed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll leave you.”

Sandor turned to face her and sat on the rock, his thumb was in his mouth. “No, I’m sorry lass,” he mumbled around his thumb, “I didn’t mean to bark at you.”

 He had his hair tied in knot on the top of his head and Sansa noticed how thick his neck was. He truly was massive. “I’m in a shit mood today,” he admitted.

“Did you hurt your thumb?” she ventured, just now noticing the hatchet at his feet and the chop marks in the tree he was sitting next to. She hoped she wouldn’t have to run and get the medical box – she didn’t do well around blood.

“Aye,” he took his thumb out of his mouth and held it close to his face, “looks like I just bruised the nail. I’ll live.”

His hands were huge, Sansa noticed, just like his feet. _You know what big feet mean?_ She heard Arya’s mocking voice in her head and she blushed - of all the stupid things to be thinking about right now.

“I’m glad,” Sansa said quickly. “That you’ll live, I mean. Not that you hurt your thumb. Hopefully you won’t lose the nail.”

Sandor stared up at her and didn’t say anything, his grey eyes were unreadable.

“Anyway,” Sansa cleared her throat. She didn’t know if he wanted to continue talking or if she should leave him.

He didn’t say anything so she turned to go.

“I’m sorry,” Sandor said again. “I’m not fit for human interaction today. I’m so bloody hungry I can barely concentrate on anything. I was thinking about steak and eggs when I hit my thumb.”

“Oh my god, peanut butter!” Sansa shook her fists dramatically in the air.

Sandor furrowed his brow at her outburst but he was grinning. “Peanut butter?”

“It’s all I can think about,” Sansa groaned. “I’m glad I’m not the only one obsessing about food. I feel so pathetic, it’s only been four days and I’m so grumpy because of it.”

“You’re not pathetic, lass. I nearly strangled Robert this morning. He kept wanting to talk strategy with me since we were both on the wrong side of the Roose vote but all I could think about was my stomach. I couldn’t wait for him to shut up.”

Sansa winced, Sandor being on the wrong side of the vote had been her fault. Of course, she wouldn’t tell him that though.

“If you want to strangle Robert I think you’ll have to get in line behind Myranda,” she said instead.

“Aye, you’ve got the right of that.” Sandor said seriously. “It was a good thing you stepped in when you did last night.”

He stood and dusted off his hairy knees. “Well, I’ve had about enough of this for today,” he gestured at the pile of wood behind him. “Help me carry some back?”

“Of course,” Sansa agreed and bent down to pick up some wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. People are getting hangry on the Tadhana tribe :/
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it so far! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Here's the breakdown of the tribes. Each player's number corresponds with the partner they came with on the other tribe.  
> Galang  
> 1\. Arya Stark, 23  
> 2\. Gendry Waters, 27  
> 3\. Bronn Blackwater, 37  
> 4\. Cersei Baratheon, 47  
> 5\. Ramsay Bolton, 29  
> 6\. Jaime Lannister, 45  
> 7\. Mya Stone, 29  
> 8\. Margaery Tyrell, 28  
> 9\. Dany Targareon, 31  
> 10\. Oberyn Martell, 42  
> Tadhana  
> 1\. Sansa Stark, 26  
> 2\. Robert Baratheon, 52  
> 3\. Sandor Clegane, 34  
> 4\. Joffrey Baratheon, 26  
> 5\. Roose Bolton, 57  
> 6\. Brienne Tarth, 32  
> 7\. Myranda Royce, 31  
> 8\. Loras Tyrell, 30  
> 9\. Yara Greyjoy, 30  
> 10\. Ellaria Sand, 43


End file.
